Paying the Price
by InvisibleBallerina
Summary: Darien screwed up and now must pay the price.


  
Title: "Paying The Price"   
  
Author: InvisibleBallerina  
  
Category: Drama  
  
Spoilers: Liberty and Larceny, Reunion, Impetus  
  
Rating: R  
  
Content Warnings: language, angst, reference to adult situations  
  
Summary: Darien screwed up and now must pay the price.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters (too bad). They belong to the Sci-Fi   
Channel...yadda, yadda, yadda.  
  
Comments: This is my second attempt at writing a fan fic or any type of fiction for   
that matter. I decided to try it from one of the character's point of view. This   
short little story popped into my head and wouldn't let go, so I thought I better write   
it down. Special thanks to Loganlover for beta reading this for me. Without her insight   
and suggestions this story wouldn't have been even half as good. Any feedback would   
very much be appreciated. I would love to know what you think of this story.   
  
  
  
  
"Paying the Price"  
  
  
  
I've got to concentrate on this budget. This damn, frustrating, impossible budget.   
I'm hoping that it would distract me from thinking about him. I'm trying not to think   
about him. I really am, but it's just not working. Every time I think I've got him   
out of my mind, thoughts of him invade it again and refuse to leave. Where the hell   
is he?  
  
Snap out of it! I hit my fist on my desk in frustration. Damn, that hurts.  
  
If I keep thinking about him, I'll never get this budget done. The copy machine is   
broken again, the air conditioning is on the fritz, the electricity bill is overdue,   
my TV's sound has gone haywire and I don't know where I'm going to get the funds to pay   
for all of this.   
  
Damn! Now Eberts and I are gonna miss our favorite soap this afternoon. And I really   
wanted to find out if Marsha decided to have Peter's baby or not. If it is even Peter's   
baby--could be Stewart's baby or even Michael's. That slut will sleep with anyone.   
  
Where are the funds going to come from to pay for these expenses? I never know. Each   
day I wonder how long I can keep this agency afloat, how long before I'm sitting in a   
dim office lit only by candles, how long before I have to restrict toilet flushing, but   
then somehow, I don't know how, I manage to find the money somewhere. I've had to rob   
Peter to pay Paul more times than I care to remember and I'm tired of it.  
  
Man, I can't wait until I see my investment in the kid pay off. Every penny I could   
beg, borrow, and appropriate has been poured into that skull of his. I've scrimped   
and sacrificed to make this project successful. This project--it's going to save this   
agency. I know it is, I can feel it in my bones...it has to, it just has to. Hell,   
I'll force it to if that's what it takes. But he's only been with us a few months so   
I've got to be patient. Things like this take time. Every case we successfully   
complete gets us closer to our financial goals and will make the other agencies stand   
up and take notice of us. Soon we'll no longer be that little, underfunded, cold-war   
relic of an agency that they snicker at. Soon we will get the respect and the funding   
we deserve. Ah, yes, I so look forward to the day when the Appropriations Committee   
smiles down on us. Then all of this scrimping and sacrificing will have been worth it.   
Yes, soon I should start to see my investment in this project pay off...that is, if I   
can keep him in line.   
  
Where the hell is he? How in the world did he escape from those handcuffs? Oh, the   
hell with this budget! I can't concentrate on it anyway, not with Darien on the lam.   
Oh, kid, kid, why did you have to do it? Why did you have to go and hook up with your   
former partner Liz and steal that file from the FBI offices? Why did you have to go   
put the life of that witness in danger? Why did you have to escape from the lab? What   
the hell is wrong with you? I was hoping you'd get your head screwed on straight by now.  
  
I lean back in my worn leather chair and rub my eyes. The morning sun is streaming in   
through the shutters. It's a typical warm, sunny San Diego summer morning. Perfect   
weather for working in the garden, but I don't have time for that luxury right now.   
I don't have time for this nonsense either. I have a country to serve and protect, an   
agency to run, a budget to balance.   
  
Does he even realize how much book cooking I've had to do to pay for that gland in his   
head? No, of course not, I don't think he appreciates anything I've done for him. He   
must think his invisibility is just a toy for his amusement, something to help him pass   
the time when he's bored. But every time he pulls one of his pranks, it costs me--man,   
does it ever cost me. Counteragent is not cheap to make. So I came up with a rule...a   
brilliant rule, I might add. A rule that will save me thousands of dollars. A rule   
that will teach him responsibility. But did he appreciate it? No. That cocky, young   
punk had the nerve to tear up the Counteragent Request Form and flaunt his invisibility   
right in front of me. But I'll show him. He has to learn that with invisibility comes   
responsibility, that he is accountable for his actions, and that my patience only goes   
so far.  
  
Damn him! I've given him everything. He'd be rotting in prison right now if it weren't   
for me. I've given him a chance to make something of his life...to serve his country.   
Why can't he appreciate that? Why did he have to go screw it up?   
  
The phone rings. "Hello, this is The Official."   
  
"Hey Chief, great news!" Hobbes sounds very pleased with himself. "I found the   
witness. Don't worry, he's safe and sound. I've also got Castagnacci under arrest.   
And guess who else I have under arrest?"  
  
"You've found Fawkes?" I'm hopeful.  
  
"Sure did," Hobbes crowed. "He was trying to help his old partner rip off Castagnacci.   
How the hell did he break out of the Keep's lab?"   
  
"I don't know," I reply. I had been wondering that myself. "What happened to Liz   
Morgan?"   
  
"Got away, Chief, and, hear this, with all of Castagnacci's dough. Yep, cleaned his   
safe right out."   
  
"Okay, bring them all in, Bobby. And I want Fawkes strapped into that damn chair of   
his this time! He got out of those handcuffs too easily." I wasn't about to let him   
get away from me again.  
  
"You got it, Chief!" I could hear the enthusiasm in Hobbes voice as he said it. He   
was as pissed off at the kid as I was. He had been watching Darien closely all week.   
Had even tried to warn him about not screwing up, but Darien just didn't listen.   
  
I hang up the phone. I know what I have to do next. I have to teach the kid a lesson   
and keep him under my control. He has to learn that I will not tolerate disobedience.   
But as angry as I am at the kid, I really don't relish doing what I know I have to do.   
In fact, it is damn unpleasant to even think about it. As much as I love my job, there   
are times when I really hate it and this is one of those times.  
  
  
  
  
It's been an hour since Hobbes' call and I'm walking down the long, bare hallway toward   
the lab. Four of my most trusted, loyal agents, all of them dressed in dark suits, are   
following behind me. These guys are loyal to the point of being dumb. But that's what   
I need right now. I need agents that will follow my orders without question. The only   
sound I hear is the sound of our footsteps on the Formica floor. It feels like a damn   
death march with me as the Grim Reaper and my agents as pallbearers. Strange way of   
thinking about it, but that's how it feels.   
  
"Wait here," I order them as we reach the entrance to the lab. "I'll call you in when   
I need you."  
  
They nod but say nothing.   
  
I pause in front of the lab door for only a few seconds, but somehow it seems like an   
eternity. I want to turn around and forget this whole mess, but I can't--I've got a job   
to do and do it I must. I slide the key card through the card reader and step through   
the doorway as the door slides open. That familiar lab with its brick wall, fish tanks,   
and lab equipment scattered everywhere somehow seems sinister, like some kind of modern   
torture chamber. Funny, I never thought of it in that way before. As I walk into the   
lab I can see the Keeper working at the counter along the far wall. Her back is turned   
toward me. It looks like she's diluting a batch of counteragent.   
  
I walk further into the lab and look behind the amber-colored screen. There's Darien,   
strapped into his chair and looking none too happy. Good. Now he won't be able to get   
away so easily.   
  
I can hear Hobbes chastising Darien. "I warned you Fawkes. Didn't I warn you? But   
no, you had to go screw up, didn't you? You are in big trouble my friend. Next time   
you're gonna listen to your partner, ya hear?"  
  
Darien was about to find out just how much trouble he really was in. I walk toward him.   
"Well, kid, you screwed up again!" I'm so pissed off at him that I don't even try to   
hide my anger.   
  
"C'mon, give me a break. I helped catch Johnny Books," he replies defensively.  
  
"Oh, and that's supposed to make everything better, is it? I suppose you just want   
to me to forget about all your other screwups. Well, it doesn't work that way! I told   
you earlier that you would have to pay for what you did and I meant it."  
  
Darien snorts. I realize that he's not worried. This young punk doesn't think I'll   
punish him! He must think that just because he has that gland in head, I'll just give   
him a little slap on the wrist and let him go his merry way. Well, he's in for a   
surprise! If he thinks he's getting off with just a warning, he's got another thing   
coming. I'm so pissed at him!   
  
I look at Hobbes and the Keeper, I can see concern etched across their faces. I know   
they must be wondering what kind of punishment I have in mind. But as pissed off as   
I am at the kid, I dread having to tell him. Hell, I dread having to even think about   
it. Why is this so hard? I'm so pissed at him, this should be easy, but it isn't.   
I should be relishing this; instead I'm dreading it.   
  
After a few seconds, the Keeper walks over to Darien carrying his shot of counteragent.   
"Well, at least let me give him his shot first," she says uneasily.  
  
Now comes the hard part. "No. No counteragent," I say firmly.  
  
The Keeper looks at me surprised. "What do mean no counteragent? He needs a shot."  
  
"I mean exactly what I said. No counteragent." Damn, I hate this.  
  
"What are saying?" Darien is starting to get concerned too. "You're not just going to   
let me go crazy, are you?"   
  
"That's exactly what I'm going to let you do." I try my best not to show how I'm   
really feeling at this moment. I can't let him see how hard this is for me. I have   
to be firm and let him know that I mean business. If I let him off easy, I'll never   
be able to control him.  
  
"Are you serious?" Hobbes looks at me as though I've totally lost my mind. Maybe I   
have.  
  
"Oh, I'm very serious."   
  
"We had a deal, Fat Man," Darien says angrily as he briefly struggles in vain to   
free himself from the restraints. "I work for you and you give me my shots. That's   
the deal!"   
  
"Yeah, and you broke that deal." I point my index finger accusingly at him. "You   
crossed the line kid and now you have to pay the price."  
  
"No, listen to me. You need me." Darien argues. "There is no way you can afford   
to withhold my shot and let me go insane."  
  
"Oh, I'm not going to withhold your shot. You'll get it alright, but only when you   
absolutely need it."  
  
"And just how long do you plan to keep me from giving Darien his shot?" The Keeper   
is getting angry too. The tension in the room is suffocating. Everyone is looking   
at me as though I was the Devil himself. Sometimes I feel like I am.  
  
"Darien can get his shot when all the segments of his monitor turn red and not a   
minute before." I brace myself for the response.  
  
"That's ridiculous!" The Keeper practically yells. "You cannot just let him sit   
there and suffer until he goes mad!"  
  
"Oh, yes, I can." I have to show them all who the boss is here.  
  
I turn to Darien. "You get your counteragent out of the good graces of this Agency,   
and you haven't exactly stayed in those good graces lately. You broke our deal and   
don't deserve any counteragent. If I could afford it, I would just throw you in the   
padded room and let you rot. But I can't, so you'll get your shot only when you   
absolutely have to have it and not a minute earlier. Do you realize that every time   
you get a shot of counteragent early it costs this Agency $254 a day?" I continue,   
not giving him time to answer. "That's right, $254! And let me remind you that you   
don't really need counteragent when you still have three segments left on your monitor,   
but we give it to you anyway just so that you'll be comfortable. Well, I'm tired of   
spending Agency funds just to keep you comfortable! You haven't earned any slack from   
me or this Agency, so you're not getting your shot any earlier than absolutely   
necessary."  
  
I can't believe I'm actually going through with this. As I look into Darien eyes, I   
can see that the defiance and anger are gone. They have been replaced with fear, guilt,   
and shock. I get a knot in my stomach. I really want to say that I've changed my mind,   
that it's all just a big mistake, but I can't. I can't show any sign of weakness.   
Darien has to learn that his actions have consequences. I need him to realize that I   
am the boss and as the boss, I have final say over his life. It's an ugly truth. I   
wish it didn't have to be this way, but it is.  
  
"I'm going to have four men posted here in the lab round the clock. I've given them   
strict orders that Darien is to remain strapped to this chair the whole time. The   
only time he can get up is if he needs to use the bathroom and even then he will be   
chained to two men going into and out of the bathroom and then chained to the handicap   
railing once he is in there."  
  
Turning to the Keeper, I say, "How long does he have before his monitor turns   
completely red?"  
  
She walks over to Darien and taking his wrist in her hand, she pushes on the restraint   
just enough so that she can see the monitor. "He's got two segments left before it   
turns all red. That translates into approximately fifteen to thirty hours."  
  
Hobbes looks at me incredulously. "You expect him to stay strapped to that chair   
for up to thirty hours?"  
  
"Yes, I do." I then turn to Darien and stare him straight in the eyes. "And if you   
try to rush the process by quicksilvering, I'll let you just sit there in that   
chair...crazy. Do you understand?"  
  
He gulps and nods. His eyes betray his fear. I have to turn away. It's too painful   
to look into his eyes anymore.   
  
I walk toward the lab door and let the men in. "Okay, men, you have your orders.   
Take your positions and keep a close eye on everyone in this room."  
  
"Hobbes," I say as I turn to him. "I want you in my office in half an hour."  
  
I take one last look at everyone staring at me before I walk out of the lab. They   
are all too shocked to say anything more.   
  
Sometimes I really hate my job.  
  
  
  
  
Half an hour later, Hobbes walks into my office.  
  
"You wanted to see me, Chief?"  
  
"Yes, I've got an assignment for you. I hooking you up with Higgins for the rest of   
the day and tomorrow. You are to help him on his current assignment. Now go find   
him," I say while waving him away with my hand. "He'll fill you in on the details."  
  
"What...what about Fawkes?" I can hear the concern in his voice.  
  
"What about him?" I say as I sort some papers on my desk, not even bothering to   
look at him.  
  
Hobbes falters through his answer. "Well...sir, he's my partner. I should...you   
know...be there for him. He's...um...going to be going through a...uh...really   
rough patch here and I think I should...you know...be there. He's going to...um...be   
needing me...sir." I sigh. It took him long enough to spit that out.   
  
"Hobbes," I reply impatiently. "I not paying you to hold Fawkes' hand. I need you   
out in the field. If you want to play babysitter, do it on your own time."   
  
Hobbes tends to be very loyal to his partners and I can see a close friendship   
starting to form between those two. I know this whole mess has got to be tearing   
him up inside. But I know that he is also very loyal to the Agency. He may not be   
happy about this, but I know he'll obey me. I'm not worried.  
  
Hobbes starts to protest. "But sir--"  
  
"You heard me, Hobbes. Now get to work!"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Hobbes walks away looking very depressed.  
  
Sometimes I really hate my job.  
  
  
  
  
Later that afternoon, I'm still working on this damn budget, but making very little   
headway. I keep thinking of Darien strapped to the chair in the lab downstairs. I   
keep seeing that look of fear in his eyes as I walked out of the lab. I can't get   
that look out of my mind. Damn him! Why did he make me have to do this? All I ask   
for is his obedience. Is that too much to ask?  
  
The Keeper walks into my office. I can see the anger on her face.  
  
Pushing my paperwork aside, I ask, "How's he doing?" The concern in my voice is not   
fake. I really am worried about him.  
  
"Why do you care?" she snaps back as she starts pacing across the floor of my office.  
  
I have to be very careful what I say to her. This woman is brilliant...a genius.   
Any deception on my part will be easily recognized by her.  
  
"Believe it or not, I really do care." I wish I didn't, because then all of this   
would be so much easier, but the kid is starting to grow on me.  
  
"Well, you have a funny way of showing it!"  
  
"Clair, I had to do it. I didn't have any choice." I can feel myself starting   
to get irritated. She should know this.   
  
"What do you mean you didn't have any choice? Of course you have a choice!"   
  
Her pacing is starting to drive me crazy. "Clair, please have a seat."  
  
She stops her pacing and reluctantly sits in one of the two chairs that are facing   
my desk. She doesn't say anything, but just lifts her eyebrows in a way that says   
"well, I'm waiting."  
  
I can't screw this up. I don't want to lose her. I need to get her on my side.   
She's the most qualified scientist I could find. I had to practically bend over   
backwards to get her to accept this job by agreeing to fund her research into finding   
a cure for Gloria Howard. And believe me, it wasn't easy coming up with the funds to   
pay for that research. With her qualifications, she could get a job at any biotech   
lab in the country. But I need her because I need Darien and Darien needs her. It's   
a strange symbiotic relationship that we all share. I just can't expect her to be   
blindly obedient, because I know she won't and she knows she doesn't have to. We   
don't always see eye to eye and sometimes I have had to manipulate and use her. But   
as much as I hate to admit it, I have a measure of respect for this woman.   
  
"I didn't want to do this, but Darien forced me into it. He has to learn that he   
can't cross over the line and expect to go unpunished just because he has that gland   
in his head."  
  
"Fine, punish him! But not this! This is torture!" I wince inwardly at those words.  
  
"And just how am I supposed to punish him?"  
  
I've already thought this through. I've weighed every option. I can't throw him   
back in prison or the padded room, he's got seventeen million dollars worth of   
top-secret government property in that skull of his. This is no way I can just   
throw away that kind of an investment. He offered his salary, but it wouldn't be   
very practical to take away his means of livelihood. It would force him to take up   
a life of crime again just to be able to eat and have a roof over his head. I can't   
have the gland removed, because that would kill him. The counteragent is the only   
means of discipline I have. It's the only way I can control him.  
  
There is a brief pause as she stops to think. "Okay, fine, you're right. There is   
no other way," she admits reluctantly. "But instead of punishing him, couldn't you   
have just shown some compassion? Couldn't you have just given him a warning?"  
  
"No, I couldn't," I say regretfully. "I can't let him think he can get away with   
this type of behavior, because if he slips up again, we may all be sorry."  
  
Her eyes narrow. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Now I have to let her in on the dirty truth. "Clair, this project is being watched   
very closely. There are certain expectations for it. If Darien doesn't meet those   
expectations it could be disastrous for him."  
  
"In what way?" she asks suspiciously.  
  
"Darien could be removed from my control and given to another agency. Another agency   
who wouldn't care about him as much as I do. I know you might find it hard to believe,   
but I do care very much about him."  
  
She didn't know it, but I have known Darien's family for many years. Hell, I worked   
with his uncle, Peter Donovon, long before I worked with his brother Kevin. Peter   
used to talk about Kevin a lot. He was very proud of his nephew. But he never talked   
about Darien. So it really surprised me when he finally did talk about him one day.   
It was just after Darien landed in juvenile hall the first time. He was very troubled   
by Darien's behavior. He told me that underneath all that attitude and rebelliousness,   
he knew Darien had a good heart. Just didn't know how to reach the boy. I could tell   
it really bothered him...that was the only time he ever talked about Darien.   
  
So I'm trying to save Darien because I feel I owe that to Peter and Kevin. They're   
the ones who developed that gland that's going to save this underfunded agency.   
They're the reason why I agreed to let Darien be implanted with the gland. Because   
of them, I want to help Darien live up to his potential and become a contributing   
member of society. I want him to become the type of person that his uncle and   
brother knew he could become. And I hate to admit it, but the kid is starting to grow   
on me.  
  
"Okay, say I buy this...that you are really concerned for Darien's welfare. What   
makes you think another agency wouldn't care for him as much? He may actually get   
better treatment somewhere else."  
  
"No, he wouldn't," I say gravely. I need to make her realize the fragile position   
that Darien is truly in, so I push on. "If I lose custody of Darien it will be   
because I lost control of him. If he can't be controlled, they won't make the   
effort I'm making to try to save him. They would decide he's not worth the effort,   
remove the gland and give it to someone else--someone who shares the same agenda."  
  
She looks appalled. "I would never cooperate with that!"  
  
"I know you wouldn't, but they could find someone else who would--someone who won't  
have any qualms about removing the gland. Is that what you want to see happen to   
Darien?"  
  
"No, of course not." She looks worried. "But you realize that by subjecting him   
to this punishment, you might just push him over the edge. He may never trust you   
again. He may run the first chance he gets...counteragent or no counteragent."  
  
"I realize that. I know I'm walking a fine line here with the kid. I'm going to be   
having him watched very closely after this. I also want you to send him up here to   
my office the minute he is free of those restraints. I'm going to have to try to   
rebuild what little relationship I had with him and get him to trust and obey me."  
  
She rubs her forehead. "Good luck with that. You're definitely going to need it."  
  
I think I've gotten through to her. I think she understands what is at stake here.   
Now for the ten million dollar question. "Do I have your cooperation in this?"  
  
She stares at me for a moment. "Yes," she says hesitantly. "I still don't like it,   
but yes."  
  
She sighs and then gets up to leave. "I better go check on Darien. I'm having a cot   
set up in the lab so I can stay here with him the whole time."  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"Not good. He's already had four attacks since you last saw him," she frowns.   
"They seem to be coming more frequently and with more intensity than what he   
normally gets. And when he isn't experiencing an attack, I know that the cravings   
for the counteragent must be wearing on him, though I can never get him to admit it.   
This is going to be tough on him."  
  
"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about that."  
  
Sometimes I really hate my job.  
  
  
  
  
Later that evening I find myself standing in front of the door to the lab. I was   
just about to head home for the evening, but instead find myself standing here.   
I really don't want to go in, but I feel a need to check on Darien personally.   
I'm standing here hesitating. This is so damn difficult. I take a deep breath   
and swipe the key card through the card reader. The door slides open and I walk in.   
  
I hear a cry and I freeze. It's Darien. I wasn't prepared to hear that. I don't   
want to hear that. I stay where I'm at. I can't bring myself to walk any further   
into the lab. I can see the Keeper from where I'm standing and a couple of my   
agents, the rest of my agents are hidden from my view. I can't see Darien because   
the screen is blocking my view of him, and, thankfully, it's blocking his view of me.   
He doesn't seem to realize that I'm here. I guess Darien was too wrapped up in his   
own pain to notice the sound of the door opening.   
  
I can hear Darien crying out again. My gut feels like it's twisting up inside of   
me. I've seen a lot of gruesome things throughout my career. I've become hardened   
to most of them. So why is hearing Darien's cries of pain so hard? Why have I let   
this two-bit, punk thief get to me?   
  
I can hear Hobbes talking. "You're doing good partner," he says in a very soothing  
voice. "You're doing good."  
  
So Hobbes is here too. Why does that not surprise me? Well, he is off duty now.   
If he wants to spend his free time down here holding Darien's hand, that's his   
business. I'm not going to stop him.   
  
"Am I?" Darien manages to get out between gasps of breath.  
  
"Yeah," says Hobbes. "You can handle this. I know you can."  
  
"I don't know, Bobby. I'm so tired of the pain. I just want it to stop."  
  
"These are pretty bad attacks, aren't they?"  
  
"Yeah, wouldn't you know it. The one time The Official decides to withhold the   
counteragent is when I have my worst attacks ever. Kinda ironic isn't it? Somebody   
sure wants to punish me for screwing up." I wince at those words. I don't want to   
see him suffering this much  
  
"And you're not going to screw up any more, right, partner? I do not want to have   
to go through this again with you. You're gonna walk the straight and narrow from now   
on. No more criminal activity, you hear?"  
  
"Yeah, I get the message, Bobby."  
  
The Keeper looks over at me. She doesn't say anything and she doesn't give me away   
to them. She's standing there against the counter with her arms folded and a very   
somber look on her face. I think she wants me to hear what's going on down here.   
I think she wants me to experience what she's been going through all day. I think   
she wants me to feel guilty. And I do.  
  
Darien cries out again in pain. I don't think I can stand to hear any more of this.   
But then it happens yet again and I can hear his cries and then his whimper.   
  
"You want some yogurt partner?" Hobbes asks.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Darien says with pain in his voice.  
  
"C'mon. You gotta eat something. You gotta keep your strength up."  
  
"Bobby's right, Darien," Clair agrees. "You need to eat something." She walks over   
to the refrigerator and takes out some yogurt and then grabs a spoon. She disappears   
from sight as I watch her walk behind the screen and over to where Darien and Hobbes are.   
  
"No, I don't want any." Darien protests weakly.  
  
"C'mon, Darien. Try," Clair demands. "I'm not going away till I get at least half   
of this container of yogurt into your stomach. So you might as well cooperate.   
I mean it."  
  
There's a pause of silence.  
  
"Hey, that's good partner. Just listen to the Keeper here. She's gonna take good   
care of you."  
  
A few minutes pass before I hear any more talking. All I can hear is the sound of   
a spoon scraping the inside of the yogurt container. I'm glad they've managed to   
get Darien to eat something. From here I can't tell who's feeding him, but I imagine   
it's probably Clair.  
  
"One more bite," Clair encourages him. "Good. You did good, Darien. You up to   
finishing the rest of this?"  
  
"No. That's enough. But hey, Keep, next time slip some counteragent in there and   
you'll make me a very happy man," Darien jokes lightly. I'm relieved that I don't   
hear any pain in his voice.  
  
"Well, I'm afraid ingesting it won't do you any good. You need to get it directly   
into your bloodstream." I can see the Keeper again. She is walking over to the   
refrigerator to put the remaining yogurt away. She looks at me and sees that I'm   
still here. "I'll be back in a few minutes guys." She walks towards me and as the   
door opens we both step out of the lab.   
  
As the door shuts I say, "Thank you. I thought I was going to have to wait until   
his next attack before I could sneak out of there."  
  
"You should have come further into the lab so that you could actually see his next   
attack," she says coldly.  
  
"Clair," I say sadly. "I take no pleasure in any of this."  
  
She sighs and nods. We exchange an understanding glance. We are both just doing   
our best to cope with this. She knows it and I know it.  
  
"What's the status of Darien's monitor?" I ask.  
  
"He has one segment left."  
  
"And how long do you estimate it will be before it turns completely red?"  
  
"I calculate it will be sometime tomorrow between late morning and early afternoon,"   
she sighs.  
  
"That long?" That's not what I wanted to hear. I was hoping for his sake that this   
whole thing would be over more quickly than that. I didn't want him to suffer that long.  
  
"I'm afraid so," she nods sadly. "And if you think what you just heard was bad...well,   
let's just say, it's only going to get worse."  
  
Sometimes I really hate my job.  
  
  
  
  
The next morning I'm sitting at my desk again trying to work on this damn budget.   
I'm tired. Didn't sleep well at all last night. How could I? I kept thinking of   
Darien in pain and strapped to that chair all night.  
  
Hobbes walks into my office. He looks a bit disheveled and tired. It looks like he   
didn't sleep much either.  
  
I try to steel myself for the onslaught I know is coming. And I know it's coming.   
I can see it in Hobbes' face. He doesn't bother to hide his anger.  
  
"How long are you going to let this go on?" he demands as he pounds his fist into  
my desk.  
  
I'm not going to let Hobbes intimidate me. "I already told you. When his monitor   
turns all red, he can have his shot."  
  
"This is a load of crap!" Hobbes yells. "Fawkes does not deserve this!"  
  
"Hobbes, he screwed up! You know that! You arrested him. Twice in fact. He has to   
learn that there are consequences to his actions." I can see a twinge of guilt in   
Hobbes' expression.  
  
"Yeah, and I hate it that I had to arrest him. Damn it! He's my partner! We're   
supposed to back each other up, be there for each other. Not this. This is torture.   
Even society's most hardened criminals don't get subjected to this kind of treatment."  
  
"Darien isn't like everyone else. He's unique. He's got a unique gift and a unique   
responsibility. He has to learn to use it wisely and not abuse it. You know that   
Hobbes. I shouldn't have to remind you of that. And because of his uniqueness, he   
has to have a unique punishment. I can't punish him the way our society would punish   
someone else who broke the law. I wish I could because it would sure make things a   
heck of a lot easier for all of us, but I can't. You shouldn't feel guilty for   
arresting him. You did the right thing. You did your duty."  
  
The pain I see suddenly appearing on Hobbes' face startles me, but looking at it,   
I can see that it was there all along hiding just under a thin veneer of anger.   
"I just can't stand to see him suffering like that, Chief. I spent the whole night   
in the lab with him. You should see him. He's in so much pain. He's so scared."   
Hobbes looks like he is on the verge of tears. I've never seen him this shaken up   
before.   
  
I have to fight to keep from losing it myself. "You can handle this, Bobby. You   
need to be strong for him. I know you can do it. And when this is over, he's gonna   
need your guidance to help mold him into a good agent. You can teach him to have the   
same kind of pride in his job as you do. You can help him to see how he can use his   
gift to help people and help his country. You have such an opportunity here, Bobby.   
You can help change his life for the better."  
  
"But this...this is just so hard," Hobbes says sadly.  
  
"I know. It's hard on all of us. He's not the only one suffering here. We all care   
about him and we're all suffering alongside him., but he needs you to be strong for   
him." I can tell by the expression on Hobbes' face that I'm getting through to him.   
Choosing Hobbes to be Darien's mentor and partner was the right choice. Darien can   
learn a lot from him. He has a fierce loyalty to his country and this agency. And   
I can see that loyalty starting to extend to his partner. Those two are going to   
become good friends--I just know it, and that's what Darien needs to help him cope   
with what his life has become.   
  
"Will you be strong for him? Will you do your duty, Bobby?" I already know what   
the answer is.  
  
"Yeah, Chief. I won't let you down and I won't let him down."  
  
Sometimes I really hate my job.  
  
  
  
  
It's almost noon now. I'm making some headway with this budget, but it's going   
slowly. If I didn't have Darien on my mind, I would have had it done by now. But   
I haven't been able to hardly concentrate on anything since this whole mess began.   
  
I'm glad that this is almost over. The Keeper called me about half an hour ago and   
told me that she finally was able to give Darien his shot. She said that he would   
be unconscious for about half an hour and that when he woke up she would send him to   
my office. I expect him any time now.  
  
I hear a sound and look up to see Darien standing warily in the doorway to my office.   
His clothes and hair are disheveled. He looks tired and drawn. There are bags under   
his eyes. The Keeper had said that he hadn't been able to sleep at all last night.   
The attacks had been keeping him awake. Just when he started to doze off, he would   
get another attack. My heart goes out to the kid. He looks a mess. But it's no   
wonder after what he's been through the past twenty-four hours.  
  
"Come on in, Darien," I say as I wave him in with my hand. "Have a seat. We need   
to talk." This is going to be tough. Now I have to try a rebuild a relationship   
that was already shaky to begin with--a relationship built on manipulation and   
coercion. This is going to be tricky. If I fail he just might decide to make a   
run for freedom, and I can't afford to have that happen.  
  
He cautiously walks over to one of the chairs and sits down. I can see a combination   
of hate and fear in his eyes when he looks at me. I guess I can't blame him. If I   
were in his shoes, I would probably be feeling the same way.  
  
"How are you feeling?" I ask.  
  
"Like crap, but what do you care? You care about your precious gland. That's all   
you care about," he replies sarcastically.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," I concede. "I do care about the gland, but I also care about you.   
I know you don't believe it, but it's true."  
  
"Well, I've had twenty-four hours to think about how much you care about me and let   
me tell you, I don't like it one bit."  
  
"Darien, you broke the law and had to be punished. That's how our society works.   
Nobody escapes that. You, of all people, should understand that. We all have to   
take responsibility for our actions."  
  
"Yeah, well your punishment sucks Fat Man. How the hell do you expect me to ever   
trust you again or even work for you after what you just put me through?"  
  
"Darien, you were the one who broke the deal, not me!" I shoot back. "I've kept   
my end of the bargain. You were the one who broke it. Don't talk to me about trust!"  
  
"Yeah, well why the hell didn't you just throw me into prison like everyone else?"  
  
"You've got seventeen million dollars worth of top-secret government property crammed  
into that skull of yours kid. I can't afford to let you rot in prison."  
  
"I wish I had never gotten this damn gland. I would rather be in prison right now   
than have to live like this."  
  
I'm a bit surprised by that statement. I need to straighten out his thinking...make   
him realize how good he really has it. "Would you? Really? If you were in prison   
right now, it would be for the rest of your life and, may I add, with no hope of   
parole. You would rot there until the day you die. Do you really want to just throw   
your life away like that? On the other hand, with that gland in your head at least   
you have a chance of someday being free from it. One of these days the Keeper is   
going to figure out a way to get that thing out of your head and when she does you'll   
be a free man."  
  
"Yeah, well, I can hardly wait," he replies, but there is nothing in his tone that   
indicates that he really believes it.   
  
I ignore his comment and continue. "In prison they tell you when to sleep, when   
and what to eat, what to wear, where to live and with whom. I don't tell you how   
to do any of that. You can sleep when, where, and with whomever you please. You   
can eat what you want, when you want it. You can wear whatever you damn please.   
You get to live in a nice apartment instead of an eight-by-eight cell. You can live   
by yourself or with someone else--I don't care. You're not stuck behind prison walls;   
instead you have a relative amount of freedom to go where you please."  
  
He snorts at that.  
  
"I said 'relative'...I can't give you total freedom to go where you please. Your   
need for counteragent places some restrictions on you. I'm sorry about that, but   
that's the way it is."  
  
I can see by the softening expression on his face that I'm starting to get through   
to him, but not quite. I really don't want to say what I have to say next, but I   
need to make him understand. "And prison, especially maximum security facilities   
like Bakersfield, aren't known to be safe places for good looking young men like   
yourself. You'd be a target. Is that what you want?"  
  
I got the reaction I wanted. He looks at me with a mixture of shock and fear.   
Shock that I would even bring up the subject and fear that I just can't seem to   
read. But I had to say it because he needs to realize how good he really has it.   
He doesn't have to live in constant fear of rape gangs out here, but in prison he   
would constantly be having to fend them off. I don't really know if Darien has   
ever been raped, but the expression on his face makes me think that either he has   
or he has come pretty close. I don't press him for an answer. My question is   
rhetorical. I just want to get him to think. It seems to be working.  
  
"I'm giving you a chance to turn your life around kid. To make something of yourself.   
A chance to serve your country. You have a gift--"  
  
"Yeah, and it's also a curse." He finally speaks. "I live in constant fear of   
going mad and killing someone. You don't know what that's like."  
  
"No, I don't. And I'm sorry that Arnaud engineered that side effect into the gland."  
  
"Well, you don't seem to be too sorry when you use it to control me."  
  
"Yeah, I have used it to control you. I make no apologies for that. But you haven't   
given me a lot of choice here. You haven't been the most willing participant you   
know."  
  
"I just want my own life back," he says in frustration.  
  
"Maybe someday you will get it back. I really hope you do. But in the meantime,   
use your gift to help people and serve your country. You can make a difference in   
other people's lives. Just think about the lives you've already saved...the people   
who would be dead if it weren't for you. You're in a tough situation. I know that.   
But don't throw it all away feeling sorry for yourself. We made a deal kid. Now   
I've upheld my end of the bargain, will you uphold yours?"  
  
"Well, I guess I don't have any choice now, do I?"  
  
"'Fraid not. So how 'bout it?"  
  
He ducks his head so I can't see his face. I wait anxiously for his answer--hoping,   
praying, that I've gotten through to him. Finally after a long pause, a much more   
thoughtful and subdued Darien looks back at me. I'm relieved. I got through to him.   
I had taken a gamble and it has paid off.   
  
"Yeah...we got a deal. I'll uphold my end," he replies hesitantly. "Hey, can I go   
now?"  
  
"Yes, of course. Take the rest of the afternoon off and rest. You look like hell   
kid." I smile at him to try to lighten the mood a bit.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He gets up to leave.   
  
"And Darien." He stops and turns around to look at me. "Don't ever make me have to   
do this again."  
  
"Yeah," he replies with a hint of embarrassment and fear. We exchange a look that   
says that we understand each other a little bit more now. Maybe we don't exactly   
see eye to eye, but we know where we stand with each other.  
  
He walks out the door.   
  
I smile. Did he actually thank me? He did! I just put him through hell and he   
thanked me! Maybe there is hope for this kid. Maybe I can make a difference in   
his life. Maybe I can save this agency.  
  
Sometimes I really love my job.  
  
  
  
The End   
  
  
ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ 


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